


our souls, intertwined

by aliciutza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angstmas, Cheating, Christmas, Eventual Smut, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Friends to Lovers, I couldn't help myself sorry, Jon Snow has a Big Dick, Jon Snow is adopted by the Starks, Jonerys Advent 2020, Jonerys Endgame, Minor Daario Naharis/Daenerys Targaryen, Minor Jon Snow/Ygritte, Office Romance, R Plus L Does Not Equal J, again Jonerys is endgame just trust me, apparently my second move is using gloves, i am not kidding if you do not like cheating fics do not even open this fic, just thought i'd clarify this, omg they were lawyers, scarves used as flirting devices is my move, why are you doing this to yourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28275381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciutza/pseuds/aliciutza
Summary: Daenerys has been working for over a year a Selmy & Dayne, one of the top law firms in King's Landing.What happens when she realises that she might have feelings for her work BFF, Jon Snow? What happens when he realises he definitely feels the same? What happens when they inevitably give in to their mutual attraction at a Christmas party? If only they weren't both married to someone else...Written forDay 23 of the Jonerys Advent Calendar 2020 event on tumblr.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 161
Kudos: 341





	1. oh, goddamn, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand...

**Author's Note:**

> Stop. This is a cheating fic. Meaning that during most of this fic Dany and Jon are having an affair with each other while being married to someone else. You’ve also been properly warned: there’s small scenes or allusions to Jon with Ygritte, and Dany with Daario. That said, JONERYS IS ENDGAME.
> 
> So if your comment is going to be just bitching about this you’ll get immediately deleted. It’s properly tagged, and I’m giving you extra warnings at the top of the fic before you scroll and start reading. You have no reason to read this if you think you’re gonna hate it. So better hit that back button NOW if any of these subjects are already making your blood boil. 
> 
> Contrary to what some people might think, I did not write certain scenes because I hate Jonerys. Are you insane. Why the hell would I do that. I just think these scenes are necessary to the story. 
> 
> There are also plot choices you might not like. But the endgame is still Jonerys. Why does it have to go like this? Well, because I say so, I wrote it like that, and because I think this is the most realistic way one could get over such a start to a relationship. 
> 
> If you choose to proceed, thank you for trusting me and my storytelling abilities. It means a lot. If not, there are no hard feelings. There’s angst and there’s smut, and there’s a holiday/winter motif leading throughout this fic. Angstmas hits the hardest right just before Christmas. I guess sometimes we just want a good cry. So here we are. 
> 
> Slightly inspired by my Ally McBeal nostalgia, I guess. I made them lawyers because oh well they say write what you know and love… 
> 
> Moodboard by me, no beta this time because where else am I supposed to get this rush from ???
> 
> Special fangz (!!!!) to the ladies who endure my bitchin' every single day. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Dany’s attention was pulled to Jon’s index finger tapping thrice against his coffee mug: their way of asking ‘ _Is everything ok?_ ’. She wasn’t listening to whatever was being said in their weekly meeting, having tuned everyone out minutes ago, her conscious self lost somewhere in the depths of her own mind. 

She looked at him from across the room, a slow blink and a subtle shake of her head indicated to Jon that ‘ _No_ ,’ everything was not ok. 

Jon’s eyebrows furrowed then he slightly tilted his head in Selmy’s direction—technically, their direct boss and one of the founding partners of the firm—‘ _Work?_ ’ he silently inquired. 

Dany grimaced, slightly shaking her head again. Barristan rarely annoyed her; Jon knew that. She’d just been feeling out of sorts over the weekend and it seemed to have carried over to Monday. Objectively speaking, everything in her life should be— _was_ —perfectly fine. Her marriage was going fine and she loved her job. After all, Selmy & Dayne was one of the best law firms in King’s Landing. 

Maybe that was the issue: it was just _fine_. It wasn’t that she was looking for a certain thrill in her life, but over the weekend she had struggled with the admission that she was mostly _content_ with how everything turned out. However, if she was honest with herself, there was something missing from her life. Whatever it was, she just wasn’t able to put her finger on it. 

Her foul mood started as a sort of epiphany brought on by a movie. At first she was happy with the resolution the writers provided, but the more she thought about it, the less she liked it. In the end, she realised that the heroine took the easiest road out: it wasn’t really a thought-out decision, but more of those situations in which the universe makes the choice for you. Sure, it was a—some would argue—logical evolution of the plot, but the feeling of _settlement_ nagged at her immediately after the credits rolled. 

She didn’t want to admit to Daario, her husband, just how much of herself she saw in the heroine. But it was there: the feeling of not belonging, the missing pieces of her soul burning at the edges, singing everything around them, demanding something be fit in the places that were carved out a long time ago.

Abandonment issues: that’s what her therapist called them. She wanted to scoff at the term, at how easy it was to just put everything wrong with her in a little box, label it and file it away. Perhaps, occasionally, throw things at it so it won’t burst open and suck her in it, seal her off from the world. The pain was always hardest to deal with during the holidays. The memories of the last of her childhood innocence and bliss clung from the festive symbols like poison ivy. December wrapped around her soul like barbed wire, squeezing and squeezing until she bled and it choked out of her all the things that made her hurt, forcing her to face them and suffer, yet again, cursing her own existence. Maybe her abandonment issues were laced with survivor's guilt. Did her therapist already know that? 

Daario was used to it by now. They’d been together for enough years to know that what she needed most from him in December was space. It was in times like this that she was grateful for him. But his selfless love also left her feeling plenty of guilt. She was the one with the bigger baggage in the relationship. For every small piece of herself she gave in to him, he gave tenfold back.

Barristan’s soft chuckle interrupted her contemplation. 

“Seems like this year’s first snow decided to come down on us on the first day of December.” 

Everyone, including herself, looked out their building’s window. Fat fluffy flurries were falling from the clouds. There were so many it looked like the Seven were sifting flour over King’s Landing. 

“On that note, I’ll let you get to your business. Remember that the Secret Santa Drawing is tonight at the Dragonpit. Arthur and I will be there at 7 PM.” Barristan finally called the end to their meeting. 

Dany picked up her tablet and files and stood in front of the large windows overlooking Rhaenys’ Hill. Soon everyone filtered out of the room. Well, everyone but one.

Jon was by her side almost immediately, his shoulder bumping hers in what she now recognised as an affectionate gesture. “Coffee in my office?”

From her first day of work, Jon almost instantly became her office best friend (or her ‘office husband’ as Myrcella, one of the youngest junior associates, had referred to him once). By now, over a year later, he knew her better than her friends and held the key to almost all her secrets. 

“I don’t think I’m the best company at the moment.” Dany avoided his inquiring gaze. There was little she could hide from Jon. She felt a little too raw at the edges for the workplace. All she really wanted was to go home, burrow underneath the comforter and watch the snow fall from her bedroom window. Jon shifted next to her. For a moment she thought he would touch her again, then his phone went off. 

“Shit. My 11 o'clock got pushed up.” From the corner of her eye she saw him type a message then pocket his work phone. “You sure you’re ok?” Jon asked again, but she couldn't feel annoyed, as despite his insistence, it didn’t feel like he was pushing her to say anything she didn't want to say. By now she should have known that he wouldn’t be fooled as easily as anyone else. 

Dany turned to him, then nodded. “Go, I’ll see you later for the Tarly case.”

“Alright.” Jon covered her shoulder with his palm this time. He gave her a gentle squeeze and his warm lopsided smile then ran off in the direction of his office. 

Eventually, she pulled herself from the melancholic episode and got through her overbooked day. After three virtual conferences, a meeting over lunch in the restaurant across the street, and a last read through one of her next week’s depositions, she found her way to Jon’s office for the last item of her day, before they had to go downstairs for the annual Secret Santa Draw. 

Jon was in full business mode when she found him in his office, pacing the length of the room, cigarette between the fingers of his right hand, some piece of evidence in his left hand, the tie loose around his neck and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscled forearms. Something about the tableau he was painting made her smile.

Jon’s eyes snapped up at her. “What?” His brow furrowed in that way that was so very Jon Snow, making her heart flutter in her chest. 

“You’re brooding,” she smiled just as his scowl deepened. 

“You’ll be too, once you read this shite,” he handed her the document as she stepped inside the room, closing the door behind her. 

“That bad, huh,” Dany took the document and put her other hand out expectantly.

Jon went to his desk to pull out a cigarette from his pack and handed it to her, then flicked the lighter’s metal spark wheel a few times before a small flame ignited. 

“Better get on with it, then,” Dany said as she inhaled through the cigarette, the tip of it glowing red then dulling to a burnt orange.

Immediately, they fell into their usual rhythm, ideas flying back and forth between them like ping pong balls. She could always count on Jon to understand her without having to spell it out for him. 

At five to seven they had to call it a day. They knew it would be a hard case, and after reading through the claim, they knew they would be working on it well into the summer. They were barely scratching the surface and they haven’t even looked through all the boxes of documents currently cluttering Jon’s office. 

One of the assistants, Shireen, dropped by to let them know they should be heading downstairs too. After they passed by her own office to retrieve her coat, they headed to the bar downstairs. 

The Dragonpit was one of the most known lawyer, DA and judge frequented places in KL. Everyone who had a hand in legal affairs in the city knew this pub was the place to be for networking and good old schmoozing. But having the Dragonpit on the ground floor of the Selmy & Dayne offices meant that it was _their_ happy hour and afterwork place first and foremost. Plus, all the office parties were held at that pub. After ten years of activity, the owners were so used to it, they even had special tabs opened for the partners and associates. 

As soon as they slipped inside the pub, they were met with Christmas decorations. Jon rolled his eyes at the display, since the entire place looked like an elf had vomited all over it, tinsel and holly and baubles hanging from every visible surface. On the tables, candles and more holly were neatly arranged in centrepieces that matched the red and white tablecloths. The huge Christmas tree by the piano still managed to steal the show somehow. 

Barristan smiled at them as they took the last two empty seats around the bar before he began his yearly speech. 

“Seeing as we have a few new recruits this year—” he tipped his head at Margaery Tyrell and Myrcella Lannister, “—I’m going to go over the rules again.” Barristan sat up and plucked a small scroll of paper from the Santa hat that Shireen carried around the bar. “You each have to draw a name from the hat. You must keep it secret, this is important!” Arthur Dayne—the other founding partner—rolled his eyes but smiled as Barristan got into a long parenthesis about the importance of the secrecy of the game. “Budget is 50 dragons. No gift cards allowed, I want the presents to be _personalised_. This is meant to be fun.” Suddenly he turned to Greyjoy and glared at him.

“It was one time, and it happened five years ago…” Theon started to defend himself. 

Dany smiled, recognising it for the inside joke it was, the same scene having played in front of her the previous year, when she attended the Secret Santa event for the first time. While Theon was mostly a right proper git, deep down he was a good guy, and Dany knew he and Jon were actually friends, no matter how many times Jon teased Theon that they weren’t. 

“Gifts are to be exchanged on the 23rd, during the work day, or you can wait until the Christmas party. As always, drinks will be on the house.” Barristan wrapped his yearly speech while most of her colleagues applauded and whistled. 

Memories from last year came to mind. She’d been working at the firm for almost two months when she listened to the Selmy & Dayne Secret Santa instructions for the very first time. Her Santa had been Barristan himself, who surprised her with a very beautiful fountain pen that she still carried in her bag, while she had drawn Shireen’s name from the hat. Although at the time she wasn’t sure about her choice of gift, lamenting not having the time to learn more about the lovely assistant, all her doubts melted as Shireen squealed when she unwrapped her gift. Dany found the stag shaped silver brooch at one of the many independent vendors at the Christmas market. 

She was pleased to find that Shireen took to wearing the brooch almost daily. 

Dany watched Jon pluck a scroll from the hat, then handed it to her to do the same. She laid back in an exaggerated manner, shielding the scroll from Jon as she unfurled it. “No peeking,” she glared at him. Jon shot his hand up to reach for her before she fell from the high stool. 

“Don’t be silly, bet I could guess if I really wanted.”

She eyed him suspiciously as she read the name on note: _Jon Snow_. Dany schooled her face into a neutral expression despite feeling the corners of her mouth tug upwards. “Oh yeah?” 

“Mhm, but I won’t take the fun out of it,” he rolled his eyes at her as he unfurled the scroll, then immediately pocketed it, his expression unfortunately unreadable. 

Some time later, after there weren’t any names left in the hat, she found herself in deep conversation with Myrcella, who was complaining about a certain sexist judge, hopeless about the strategy to employ in order to win the case she very much believed in.

Dany gave her every piece of advice she could think of, even if she knew that unfortunately judge Trant would never let it slide as easily. At one point, Jon chimed in, giving her tips on how to get the sleazy old bastard to lay off her. Myrcella thanked them both for their help and ran out of the pub when she saw that it was almost 8:30. Dany drank up what remained of her gin and tonic and decided it was time to go home. 

She bid everyone good night and pulled her coat on. She barely stepped outside when the door opened again behind her. 

“Walk with me,” Jon said, his slate eyes boring into hers. 

“What?” This time she didn't resist the smile that tugged at her lips.

“Walk with me, in the snow. You’ll like it,” he explained as he buttoned up his own coat and popped up the collar to protect his neck. 

“Are you insane? I am in heels, I’m lucky if I’ll make it to the tube station around the corner without breaking my neck.”

“It’s the perfect weather for a walk in the snow. It has to be now, before it freezes over,” he said, his eyes pleading. She had to look away from his intense gaze. 

Jon started rummaging through his bag. Dany pulled her scarf higher over her nose, the chill seeping through her clothes and settling into her bones. Eventually, Jon pushed whatever he took out from the bag in her hands. 

She shook her head at his proffered leather gloves, “But what about you?”

“Northerner, remember? Now put them on.” 

She scoffed but still did as he asked. The gloves didn’t fit her that well, but they were lined with some type of soft fur and they were already warming up her hands. “If I fall on my arse…”

Just then, he looped their arms together, resting his palm over her now gloved hand. “I’ll keep you steady.”

Dany knew when an argument was lost. Slowly—mostly because she was afraid that ice might have already formed underneath the snow dusting—they made their way through the park by the office, then continued past the tube station, and the one after that. 

Most people would feel the need to fill up the silence that stretched between them. But not Jon. He liked to say that he wasn’t good at people, that he lacked the subtlety of certain human interactions. Dany fought him on this subject many times, and she’d continue to do so until he believed her. She’d seen him in negotiations enough times to know how good he was at reading people, especially when it came to what they needed. Plus, Jon simply got along with everyone at the firm. 

Instead of small talk, Dany took the time of their walk to admire the quiet the snow seemed to have brought over the city, to relish in the feeling of the cold snowflakes hitting her cheeks and settling in her silver hair. She didn't realise she'd stopped thinking about her issues hours ago.

Eventually, they had to descend into one of the tube stations, their commute no longer coinciding, as they lived in different parts of the city. Her train would be the first to arrive. 

“Ten minutes,” Jon said, glancing up at the screen and shaking the snowflakes out of his raven curls. 

Dany did the same, then peeled off the gloves from her hands, giving them back to their owner. She shrieked as Jon’s cold fingers brushed against hers. “Jon!” Without thinking she pulled his hands into her own and started rubbing them between hers. “You’re an idiot,” she muttered.

Jon was obviously amused by her worry. “I’m gonna survive. Although I don’t know if my heart will survive you callin' me an idiot,” he chuckled. 

She didn’t like the way he brushed off her worry. “Then stop being an idiot. Why would you give me your gloves?”

“Because my mum drilled into my brain from the ripe age of 4 that I had to be nice to girls." His eyes held a twinkle Dany couldn't quite decipher. "Plus it was the only way you'd agree to the walk."

She brought his hands closer to her lips to blow warm air on his frozen limbs then looked up at him. His eyes should not have warmed her up like that. Dany squeezed his hands one last time. Although she lessened her hold, Jon didn’t pull them away. “Please don’t do that again, as it would be very embarrassing to have to explain to Arthur and Barristan why their favourite associate has to take indefinite time off because of frostbite that could have been easily avoided.”

Suddenly Jon reached up, his still slightly warmer fingers delicately twisting a lock of her hair that had come loose from her low ponytail, as his mouth opened and closed a few times. His dark eyes flashed between her face and the silver curl wrapped around his fingers. “Maybe if you wear gloves next time, I won’t have to give you mine,” he said quietly. 

Her breath hitched as he finally tucked the stray curl behind her ears. For a fleeting moment, Dany wondered if their current position was inappropriate and whether she should step away or not. She didn’t want to—not yet, anyway. 

The robot rendered voice announced through the speakers that her train was approaching. Dany still couldn't pull away from him. 

“You know...I’m here for you, if you want to talk about it. Or if you just want to silently walk through snow,” he said, this time his hands cupping hers. 

She had to look away from him. “I know that. Thank you, Jon.” The screech of the train stopping in the station finally pulled her away from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jon gave her a small smile and waved. 

In spite of the freezing wind on her walk home, her hands burned all the same. 

❄❄❄❄❄

By Wednesday she felt mostly fine. She woke up to find a bouquet of white roses on the kitchen table. There was a note next to them, written in Daario’s messy writing that she loved and hated at the same time. It was his way of saying _‘Work sucks, I apologise for being too busy. I love you.’_ With a smile, Dany put the note in her bag in case she needed a pick-me-up during the day.

She sent a quick message to Daario, thanking him for the flowers. She immediately received a string of silly emojis in reply, meaning that he was in surgery and one of the nurses was sending whatever he was telling her. Dany shook her head at his husband’s antics. At least he always found a way to reply to her. 

After two meetings, she was already exhausted. Dany popped by Jon's office, but he was nowhere to be found. His absence from the office on Tuesday didn’t surprise her, since it was his usual court day, but it unsettled her that at 10 AM he was nowhere to be found. He usually at least stopped by for coffee before lunch. 

Dany checked her agenda, relief washing over her as soon as she saw that they were supposed to work on the Tarly case after lunch. She could definitely get through the next few hours.

Jon was nowhere to be seen at lunch, so she ate with Margaery and Myrcella in her office. 

It was half past two when she decided that she'd waited long enough for Jon. It just wasn't like him to be late without at least letting her know. Her heels softly thumped on the carpeted floor as she made her way to Jon’s office, phone in hand, her finger already hovering over his name. She almost didn't see him; he was sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed down.

Cautiously, she approached him. “Jon?”

He slightly jumped, just now realising he wasn't alone anymore. “Is it two already?” 

Dany didn't correct him, she simply nodded. He fumbled with his hands, then eventually pushed his wedding band back in its place on his finger. 

“Right, better get comfortable, it will take a while,” he said as he went to his desk and brought over one of the many boxes of evidence. 

It wasn't the first time Dany saw him brooding, yet for some reason this felt more than what she was used to. Just as he had given her space when she needed it, she trusted that he'd come to her when he was ready to talk about what was on his mind. 

His glum mood continued well into the afternoon. By five o’clock, Dany had taken off her boots and had occupied the entire couch, documents scattered on the floor, the coffee table and Jon's desk. Jon was alternating between pacing the room and sitting at the desk, occasionally writing something on the big whiteboard that occupied almost the entirety of one of the walls. He'd rolled his sleeves up to his forearms again. 

With a sigh Dany fought hard against asking him what was wrong. She briefly wondered whether it was something she said, as he seemed to avoid even looking at her. She twisted and pulled more files from the box next to the couch. She knew that if continued like this, she’d eventually snap and ask him if she did anything wrong. 

Around seven, Jon offered to order dinner if she agreed to stay until 9. She agreed, feeling unable to refuse him. 

They ate in silence, then quickly returned to work, the office still filled with unaddressed tension. She had to bite on her lower lip to prevent herself from prodding him about his mood.

He surprised her when, after dinner, he plopped down on the couch next to her, the top of his thigh brushing against her bent knees. She could no longer take it. This was the first time he was treating her like this. “Jon…” she started to say.

“Can we just—” he interrupted.

Jon leaned back against the couch, looking directly at her for the first time that day. For a long moment he searched her face, then asked, “Can we just sit in silence for a second?”

She nodded. She didn't like that he wasn't letting her in, but she did the one thing she could think of. Dany slumped against the back of the couch, next to him. “Ok.”

After a few minutes of silence she reached for the hand he rested on his thigh. Jon tensed slightly, then relaxed. She couldn't say how long they stood like this, eyes closed, his hand squeezing hers every few seconds as if to reassure himself that she was still there. 

Much too soon, Jon opened his eyes. “Alright, then: you dictate I type.”

❄❄❄❄❄

Jon was back to his usual mood by Friday. She could tell because as soon as she sat at her desk, his head of perfectly messy curls popped in. She couldn’t decide if it was a meticulously crafted bed hair style or if his curls naturally fell into place like that. She’d seen him run his hands through them for an entire day (mostly because it was a nervous tic), and somehow they still looked perfectly mussed. 

“I knew that was you,” he stepped inside, a paper cup in each of his hands. The beverages were from the little coffee shop from across the street. She knew exactly what the content was: one of the few sweet hot drinks she occasionally indulged in, as it was mostly sugar and chocolate. Jon, on the other hand, was absolutely addicted to it. He’d been the one to introduce her to it. Dany had made fun of him and said it was his version of Pumpkin Spice Latte, but for winter. He, of course, scoffed at her and said he was anything _but_ basic. 

“Morning to you too,” she yawned, only slightly regretting staying up late. Daario had surprised her with a date night: he convinced (actually bribed) a friend into switching shifts so he could wait for her at home with her favourite meal. The evening had progressed into _something more_ , which meant she barely got five hours of sleep. 

Dany reached for the cup she knew was meant for her. Her fingers wrapped around the warm recipient, but Jon didn’t let go.

“Who’s your giftee?” he asked, looming over her. 

She stammered, getting lost for a moment in his grey eyes. She eventually recovered. “I might be half asleep but I’m no amateur, Jon.” She narrowed her eyes at him. 

Jon’s fingers shifted and covered the tips of her own. Even if it wasn’t the first time their fingers were touching, the simple yet loaded gesture caused a jolt of electricity that was still as intense.

He let go of her hand as soon as she was able to look away from his eyes. 

“You’ll break, just like last year,” Jon chuckled. 

“Well, last year I was at a disadvantage, I needed all the help I could get, I barely knew anyone.”

Jon smirked, “So you know this person well.”

Dany glared at him. “No comment.”

“You’re the worst liar, Dany.” With that, he left. 

She scoffed. Just because she wasn’t able to easily lie to Jon, didn’t make her a bad liar. 

Dany tried not to panic, she had three weeks to find a gift for Jon. Contrary to her last year’s giftee, it wasn’t a problem of not knowing Jon enough, but perhaps knowing him too well to be able to decide on only one gift. She opened the website she was browsing yesterday again. After scrolling through different types of single malt bottles (it was Daario’s suggestion), Dany decided against buying him anything he’d be able to consume. She wanted to give him something he could remember her by. 

Perhaps the Christmas market was again the way to go about it. 

Five o’clock found her again in Jon’s office, shoes off and sleeves rolled to her elbows. Jon stole her hair tie (again; it was mostly a habit during summer) and put half of his hair up in a messy bun. She found the style incredibly distracting for some reason, which was ridiculous since he finally looked like the bonafide hipster. she knew him to be at heart 

At least they were making progress with the case. This time it was easier to get through the never ending piles of documents, Jon’s good mood was intoxicating. 

They were laughing, tears in their eyes, Jon sprawled on the small leather couch, clutching his stomach. Suddenly he shot up from his seat. 

“What are you doing?” Dany asked. 

“Just remembered something.” He opened two more drawers before he found whatever he was looking for. “Here you go,” he said as he came back and placed a small dark blue box on her lap. 

Dany beamed at the familiar logo, “You did not!”

Jon chuckled, sitting next to her on the couch. She immediately unwrapped the bow and opened the box of her favourite chocolate in the world. “I cannot believe that you remembered this.” 

Inside the box there were twelve perfect bitesize pieces of rich dark chocolate with crunchy salted caramel bits. She popped a piece in her mouth, letting it slightly melt on her tongue before swirling it in her mouth, then chewing it, enjoying the crunch of the salted caramel specks. It was edible nostalgia. A rare perfect moment of her childhood frozen in time, contained in a tiny square made up of common ingredients. 

Unrestrained, she flung herself in Jon’s arms, clinging to him like vine. Dany couldn’t stop the tears even if she tried. Jon’s warm, strong arms wrapped around her waist. 

He remembered. She’d mentioned it once, in the summer, when one of their clients unknowingly brought her a similar box of chocolate. Jon found her in her office, munching on them, eyes twilking with unshed tears. It was Christmas in July: remembering all the good times, and none of the bad. It was her mum’s kisses and her oldest brother’s piggyback rides. It was Christmas morning unwrapping presents with her other brother. It was getting a glimpse of something that would never be again. 

When her sobs died down, she was finally able to hear Jon’s coos: _you’re ok_ , _I’ve got you_ , _I’m not going anywhere_. 

❄❄❄❄❄

The fight with Daario lasted the entire weekend. 

It was her fault, although she didn’t admit it out loud. It started Friday night, as soon as she got home. She had all but ran out of Jon’s office, feeling too vulnerable to even look him in the eye, let alone talk about her breakdown. That was a problem for Monday. She could avoid Jon until then. 

The fact that her husband had lost not one, but two patients that day only added fuel to the fire. 

She couldn't remember what exactly started it. She only knew that she couldn't stop. So the voices got higher and the insults more cruel—mostly coming from her. Daario took it all in stride. It only infuriated her more. Friday night he slept on the couch, while she slept in their bedroom. The fight resumed first thing in the morning because she just never learned to let it go. 

She wanted to let it go. She wanted him to hug her and apologise. _She_ wanted to apologise. 

On Saturday, he took the bedroom and she stubbornly hid in her office. 

Sunday, she broke down. As always, she apologised just because she wanted it to be over. Because she missed him. She slept in his arms the entire night. 

That Monday Dany called in sick just because she didn’t think that she could face Jon.

❄❄❄❄❄

“Dany,” Jon’s voice startled her, making her lose the grip she had on the glass in her hand. 

In a swift move, Jon’s hand caught the glass before it hit the floor. Water sloshed on her boots and on the hem of her dress. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said. He sounded concerned. Her gaze dropped to her shoes. She knew that. She left his texts on read and she’d been avoiding him the entire day. 

After a few seconds he started talking again. “I am so sorry.”

He was apologising. Why was he apologising? 

“Dany, please, talk to me.” She felt his palms settle on her shoulders. She barely even fought him when he turned her towards him. 

When his fingers tilted her chin up so she would look him in the eyes, she went willingly. 

“Forgive me,” he whispered. 

She shook her head. “I’m sorry I broke down like that.”

“I thought the chocolate would make you happy. Gods, the last thing I want is to hurt you.” His voice was but a husky hush, his Northern burr more pronounced than she’d ever heard him. 

“It meant the world to me, Jon.” On an impulse, she hugged him. She couldn't say for how long they remained like that in the office kitchen. 

Even late at night, as she lay awake in her bed, her chin still burned where he’d touched her. 

❄❄❄❄❄

The next day, the box of chocolates was waiting on her desk. 

Her good mood lasted the entire day. She sped through her meetings and then through her hearings. During lunch, she popped into the nearest mall hoping that something would catch her eye for Jon’s Secret Santa gift. 

Annoyed, she returned empty handed at the office, where a four hour meeting with Jon awaited her. They had agreed to do a last read through of their brief, then go for a first trial run with their client, Samwell Tarly. 

When Jon finally walked Samwell out of the room, she had a migraine. 

Jon came back shortly. His brow furrowed when he saw her massaging her temples. “Let’s go, it’s been a long day.” He picked up their coats and gently pushed her towards the elevators. 

They’d just stepped inside and pushed the button for the lobby when the elevator lurched, sending her back against one of the walls, taking Jon with her. He would have crushed her, had he not braced his arms against the wall, caging her in. 

The entire mechanism stopped. The lights flickered then went out. She felt Jon slightly shift in front of her, moving closer. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered. 

His body was too close to hers. It lit her skin on fire and made her throat close up. “Mhm,” she settled for a wordless confirmation. 

A dim orange light turned on—the first sign that the emergency protocol was activated. 

Jon loomed over her. He wasn’t that much taller than her, just enough so she had to tilt her head up to be able to look at him. She felt his heavy breaths on the exposed skin of her neck. In the incandescent light all she could see was Jon’s eyes, pulling her in, lulling her to give up the fight, to stop swimming against the current, to just sink and drown. 

All she wanted to do was _drown_. 

Was she inching up or was he leaning in? Before she could get an answer, a shrill sound pierced the dead silence of the small enclosure. Jon recoiled, stepping back against the opposite wall. The elevator powered back up and started moving. 

She mumbled a hasty goodbye and ran in the opposite direction of her commute. 

The walk in the cold helped clear her mind. Without meaning to, she stumbled into one of the numerous Christmas markets scattered across KL. There, she finally found the perfect gift for Jon: a scarf. It was handmade, from the softest wool, of the blackest black she’d ever seen. 

As the vendor wrapped it in beautiful festive paper, she couldn’t help but smile at herself. The flight reflexes had finally died down. All that remained in their wake was the electrifying feeling of the ghost of his body so close to hers. 

❄❄❄❄❄

The next day, almost all employees of Selmy & Dayne were in the Dragonpit, celebrating Theon’s thirtieth birthday. 

If there was one thing Dany liked the most at this firm, it was the sense of belonging that came with being a part of it. Theon got emotional when Barristan said that he was proud of him. Then he started ribbing on Jon to cover the fact that he actually had a human heart and was capable of feelings. 

That was until he realised that he could guilt trip Dany into dancing with him.

“C’mon, Daenerys, I was basically emotionally buttnaked in front of everyone.”

She scoffed. 

“Just one dance, pretty please,” he begged again as he’s trying to give her his best puppy eyes. 

It had no effect on her, but she couldn't refuse the birthday boy. “One dance.”

One dance with Theon turned into many dances with most of her colleagues. It was a good way to forget about the week’s stress. Myrcella pushed a drink in her hand and tucked herself under Dany’s arm, swaying together to one of her favourite songs. They giggled as they watched Theon twirl and dip Margaery, causing her to laugh so hard, she almost made the poor guy lose his footing. 

Shaking her head at her friends’ antics, she went to the bar for a refill. 

“Hey,” a voice she’d recognise anywhere came from behind her. 

“Hey yourself,” she replied. “Where did you run off to?”

“Had to make a phone call,” Jon said, his expression shut off. 

Before she could ask him more, a squeal interrupted them. “Jonny boy!” Margaery took advantage of his inattention and grabbed Jon’s hand, pulling him into a dance.

Jon was a good dancer, Dany noticed. Even if his heart didn’t seem completely in it, he still seamlessly led Margery through the steps. Theon materialised behind her and pulled her back on the dancefloor. 

When the band switched to a slow song, Shireen swooped in to steal Theon from her. Just as she was about to go back to the bar, a warm hand gently caught her wrist. 

“Dance with me.”

She should have said no. Instead, she nodded and turned to face him. 

Jon pulled her right hand in his, fingers gently wrapping around hers. Dany rested her left hand on his shoulder, just as his free hand circled her waist, finally landing on her lower back. Everywhere their bodies connected burned. 

His serious expression morphed into a teasing smile. “Dancing implies movement, _Daenerys_.” 

She knew that. If only her body would move. He took another step towards her, bringing their bodies closer together and started swaying. 

He was so close she could smell him: fresh snow, pine cones and a fresh aroma of cigarettes—thus explaining his absence (at least partially). All but one of her senses were overwhelmed. He was all she could see, feel and smell. She wondered if this was why poets described dancing as the most dangerous game. 

The intensity of his gaze brought forth new questions: did he also feel it—this pull—this magnetic force that seemed to be pushing them together? 

Suddenly she was back in the dim light of the elevator, wishing she could jump in the depthless dark sea of his eyes. 

The music stopped abruptly as the lights dimmed, the crowd singing a (very) drunk version of ‘Happy Birthday’. Jon’s right hand remained on the small of her back during the song, as the cake was brought in, until Theon blew out the candles. 

After they ate cake, the crowd started trickling out of the pub. When she stepped outside, it was snowing again. The door opened and closed behind her. 

Dany turned, smiling. Jon was staring at her, cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and the dancing. He pulled his gloves out of the pocket of his coat. 

This tile she didn’t try to argue: she immediately put the godsdamned gloves on. 

❄❄❄❄❄

Before she knew it, December 23rd arrived. 

She’d debated with herself the entire day when she should give Jon his gift. By 10 AM it was obvious that her last day of work would be too busy to find time for it. Her Santa seemed to be just as busy. 

At 6 she quickly sent the last emails, activated the out of office automatic reply, gathered her stuff and rushed to the Dragonpit, Jon’s gift safely hidden in her bag. 

Half of the office was already there when she arrived. She knew that Jon had been stuck in court for most of the day, but that he was on his way to the pub. 

People started exchanging gifts all around her. Margaery was showing off the rose hair pin Arthur got her when Jon slipped into the seat next to her. 

“That’s lovely, Marge. It really suits you,” he said. 

Dany couldn’t hold back her smile. “That’s what I said.”

“Thanks, guys,” Margaery said with a flick of her hair over her shoulder. “What did you two get?”

“Actually, I haven’t gotten mine yet,” Dany said as she reached for her bag. 

Jon was faster. “Happy Christmas,” he said as he put a neatly wrapped box in front of her, next to her drink. 

“No way,” she shook her head, then pulled out Jon’s gift and extended it to him. “Happy Christmas, Jon.”

“This is nauseatingly cute,” Margary laughed. 

Jon shook his head, smiling, “I briefly considered it at one point, you know.”

“Just shut up and open your gift,” she ordered him.

“Together,” he motioned to the box in front of her. 

Anticipation settled low in her belly as she unwrapped the perfect bow and opened the black flat box. She couldn't help but laugh at what he bought her: a pair of beautiful, black leather gloves. She immediately put them on—they fit her perfectly. 

When she turned to Jon, he had an equally big smile on his face. He took the scarf out and wrapped it around his neck. Dany had been right: it matched his hair and complimented his beautiful grey eyes. 

“Come, let’s dance,” he said, not waiting for a reply. 

She regretted that she was still wearing the gloves, as she wanted to feel his skin against the palm of hand. 

“Now you’ll stop stealing my gloves.”

Dany rolled her eyes. “For the record, it doesn’t qualify as stealing if the owner makes you take them.”

“It does if I gave them under duress.” Jon twirled her away from his body, then pulled her closer against his chest. 

Dany’s breath hitched. When he did it a second time, she was prepared for it, even if her skin tingled just as much as the first time. 

“And what was this threat of this hypothetical duress I’m just now hearing about?” 

“Your beautiful hands freezing. And an old school whooping from my mum,” he deadpanned.

Dany pulled on both ends of his new scarf, tightening it slightly around his neck. “Who said that you don’t still deserve that ass whooping?”

Jon faltered and lost the rhythm. If it was because of her hold on his scarf or her words, she didn’t know. 

Arthur cut in and whisked her away for a dance. For the rest of the night she only saw Jon from across the room. Everytime she looked up, he was already looking at her. 

As before, they left together. This time he wore a scarf and she had her own gloves. 

Wordlessly, they agreed to take the long way home. The fresh snow crunched under their shoes with each step, the city quiet, almost no one on the streets. When they reached the park, Jon unhooked their arms and grabbed her palm instead. 

She stopped. For the second time that night, she wished she wasn’t wearing gloves. Jon turned to face her. Dany looked down at their intertwined fingers. Limits blurred until there was no telling where one type of affection ended and the other started. She desperately searched her soul for one ounce of guilt, yet all she found was excitement. Every cell in her body buzzed in anticipation of what was to come. A long lost feeling, the rush of something new yet familiar. 

When she looked up, Jon was staring at her. Like he did in the elevator. Like when they danced. He squeezed her hand. For just a split second his gaze flashed to her lips then back to her eyes. 

He licked his lips. 

Her pulse was in her throat. She was on the verge of it, ready to jump in, head first, his eyes luring her in with a siren’s song. 

Jon stepped forward, eliminating the last of the space between them. She could feel the heat emanating from his body. 

His face leaned in agonisingly slow. 

She knew what was going to happen before he even made the decision. 

Jon rested his forehead against hers. 

“We can’t,” he whispered. His pained sigh travelled through her, from where their foreheads connected to her toes. 

The words pushed her over the precipice, but instead of falling into the safety his eyes offered mere instants ago, she plummeted to the ground. 

Of course they _couldn’t_. She knew that. It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Without looking up she dropped his hand and walked away. It took everything in her to not look back. And even though she knew he wouldn’t, she still wished he came running after her. 

That night, her hands remained cold long after she arrived home.


	2. ...look at this idiotic fool that you made me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is determined to fix things with Dany after he rejected her after the office Christmas party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, hope you had a nice Christmas ! Big big thank you for your support of this idea! I’d apologise for the angst, but you know the drill by now ha! 
> 
> I forgot to mention in my previous note (also because I posted at 3 am in my time zone lol) that, as many of you correctly guessed, there’s a few references to Taylor’s new album, “evermore”. Funny enough, when i plotted this fic, it was to “folklore”, and specifically to “illicit affairs” (well duh). So I was very very happy when I discovered “ivy” on “evermore”. I really recommend listening to both of these songs (and “cowboy like me”) makes it hurt that much better ! I made myself a playlist for this fic, so maybe I’ll share that with part 3 :) 
> 
> Also funny, it's almost 2 am now. Unbetaed again so I can get my adrenaline rush. 
> 
> Special fangz to my ladies who support all my nonsense. 
> 
> So, without further ado, let’s move into more _illicit affairs_ territory. Ready for it?

Jon forced himself to go through the motions: greet each guest, offer drinks, make small talk. He kept telling himself that he wasn’t obsessively looking at the clock, nor was his heart lodging into his throat every time the doorbell rang. 

The Christmas party his wife, Ygritte, was so adamant about organising on December 27—not too close to Christmas that people would refuse to attend, but not too close to New Year’s so that people would still feel compelled to go out for a party—was in full swing. 

He hadn’t seen Dany since that night in the park. He was certain that being forced to relive the cursed moment he decided to reject her was a torture worthy of the seven hells. 

That night, he’d felt it again—the magnetic pull to her, the invisible string that seemed to wrap around their souls and bring them together again and again, until one of them would eventually give in. He’d seen the hope in her eyes, felt the anticipation crackling in the air, the excitement of something new buzzing underneath the layers of clothes separating them. 

He’d immediately regretted it. He wished he could take it back the instant she dropped his hand. His fingers still tingled from her touch, and every time he closed his eyes he felt her body pressed to his in the cold air. 

In his dreams, he kissed her on the spot. And if he didn’t do that, then he’d run after her and crush her small body to his, his fingers sinking into her silver hair as he’d apologise for being weak. Then she’d call him an idiot and _finally_ kiss him back. 

Unfortunately for his wretched soul, his mistakes couldn’t be miraculously fixed in his dreams. And the worst of it all? He had no idea how to fix this— _them_. 

His only chance was for her to show up tonight—as she was expected—or he’d have to wait until Monday. But even then, what if she decided to take time off? He didn’t want to think that this is how their friendship ended: with him being a coward. 

He had typed and deleted dozens of messages before he ultimately decided against texting her. What would he even say? I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you? I’m sorry I was a coward? I’m sorry I crossed all the lines between us? I miss you?

None of them conveyed his _actual_ feelings. And a simple ‘Are you still coming to the party?’ didn’t seem appropriate either. Why wouldn’t she come to the party? Ygritte had invited them weeks ago. 

He just needed a chance to at least try to explain himself. Jon wasn’t stupid, he knew there was no going back now. The only way for them was forward: get over it and hopefully find a way to be friends again. 

Except he didn’t want that. 

The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that ignoring whatever was brewing between them was the last thing he wanted. The thought of pretending her soul didn’t speak to his made him sick to his stomach. Like a phantom limb, her absence from his life was already hurting him. 

The doorbell rang again and he rushed to the door. When he opened it, Daario’s shit eating grin greeted him. “Happy Christmas, mate,” he said, pulling Jon in a half hug. 

He hugged Daario back, patting him on the shoulder. “Happy Christmas,” Jon replied, hoping his expression was as neutral as possible, ignoring the way his heart was already threatening to beat out of his chest. 

Naturally, his eyes fell on Dany, who was all but hiding behind her husband. After they broke their hug, Daario turned around to pull his wife inside. 

It took everything in Jon not to gather her in his arms and beg her to forgive him. Dany barely even met his eyes as she wished him a merry Christmas, greeting him with what was supposed to be a cheek kiss, yet her lips never touched his skin. She immediately slid past him, a fake smile plastered on her lips, calling out for Ygritte. 

It was going to be a very long night. 

Jon took a steadying breath as he closed the door and offered to take their coats. Daario shoved a bottle of expensive scotch in his hand, making small talk about the holidays. The two men walked together to the living room, catching up as they usually did. Over the past months, they’d become friendly, having attended a few parties together. They discovered they had a few things in common, and Jon thought he was a decent bloke. 

Usually, he was quite absorbed by whatever Daario was telling him—this time it was a story about his time in the army (unlike in Westeros, military service was mandatory in his home country). But all he could think about were Dany’s lips parting expectantly in the snowfall, silently asking him to kiss her. 

It also didn’t help that he couldn't help himself but glance at Dany every few seconds. For her part, Dany was hellbent on talking to everyone _but_ him. The fact that he deserved it didn’t make it hurt any less. At least, before the blasted Secret Santa exchange, for every work party he’d endured watching her from a distance, she’d always look back at him, giving him that dazzling smile that took his breath away. 

There were no complicit smiles from across the room this time. Instead of slowly gravitating back to each other, as they always did, she got further and further away from him.

Val—one of Ygritte’s cousins—joined their conversation, seemingly fascinated with Daario’s story. Her questions allowed him to brood freely in silence, occasionally feigning interest in the topic. 

He should have kept his feelings better in check. He should have never asked her to dance with him. He’d been so good at avoiding it for the better part of the year she’d been working at Selmy & Dayne. Except he _really_ wanted to dance with her, have an excuse to feel her body flush to his, and maybe pretend just for the briefest moment that he was hers and she was his.

It was like something had irreversibly changed between them in that elevator, and ever since he’d been unable—and frankly, quite unwilling—to stay away from her. But with just two words, he’d destroyed their friendship and whatever else that was taking root between them. 

Ygritte brushed past him while carrying a tray with more appetizers. She winked at him and tilted her head in Theon’s direction, who was trying his best to hit on yet another one of her cousins. Jon shook his head, but went to save the poor girl from his mate’s slimy tentacles. His wife mouthed a ‘thank you’ and disappeared in the crowd. 

After making Theon help him bring out more drinks—and thus effectively allowing Osha to make her escape—he once again found himself brooding in a corner, nursing a glass of that scotch Daario brought, telling himself that he wasn’t scanning the room again for Dany.

Instead, his eyes locked with his wife’s. She smiled at him then went back to her discussion with one of her work colleagues whose name Jon didn’t quite get. 

Lately, things started being better between them. Except for the row they had at the beginning of the month, this was the longest they’d gone without fighting—in a very long time. 

Nothing about being with Ygritte was easy. But they’d been together for what seemed like their entire lives. Imagining his life without her would be like imagining life without his siblings. While their relationship had been intense ever since they first met, back in high school, he’d always taken their clashing for passion. Yet after fifteen years of it, their fights no longer ended in make up sex, but in regret and resentment, in hours contemplating whether or not he was ready for this to be the rest of his life. 

He needed a smoke. He needed a moment away from everyone else. He needed... _her_. So Jon took his coat and slipped out in the garden before he did something stupid like beg Dany to at least look at him again. 

He slid against the wall and crouched, cigarette lit, watching the smoke climb up and up towards the sky. The icy air bit at his nostrils with every pull from the cigarette. With his other hand, he brushed off the pristine snow covering the rim of an empty flower pot. The coldness reminded him of their first walk in the snow. 

Like a silly teenager with a crush, he’d spent the entire walk home with a stupid grin on his face, his gloves back on his hands. His skin was still tingling, but not from her efforts to restore normal blood flow to his hands. The sensation was especially concentrated on the tip of his right index finger, where she’d accidentally brushed her lips against it while blowing warm air on his ice cold limbs. 

Although he hadn’t seen her the next day, he had been pleasantly surprised to discover that her perfume had somehow lingered on the inside of his gloves. It had made him smile the entire day in court. 

That was until he got home and at least two of the seven hells broke loose. It had been his fault—it always was, according to Ygritte. That night she accused him of having an affair. She somehow always circled back to this every few months. But for the first time in their relationship, he was ashamed to admit that he wished it was true. He didn’t even bother to defend himself that time, he just took his keys and drove aimlessly around the city. He’d gone back around 3 AM, after a quick nap in a parking lot. That morning he was the first to leave for work. 

Fortunately, his first two meetings of the day were outside of the office. 

He felt better later when Dany came to find him so they could work on the Tarly case. Just being in her proximity made him relax and be able to focus on other things than the stupid fights Ygritte loved rehashing. 

That was the problem with Ygritte: when things were good, they were great, but when they were bad, he wanted to run away and not stop until he reached the Wall. 

When Dany’s small hand had reached for his, he felt like maybe he didn’t have to carry all this burden on his own. That night, even after he (sort of) made up with his wife, he lay awake realising that Dany probably wasn’t even aware of just how much comfort her presence and that small gesture offered him. 

Until Dany, he’d been _fine_ just going along with everything Ygritte wanted. He’d gone to university in Oldtown for her, and then he’d moved to King’s Landing because of her internship at KL Times, the number one newspaper in Westeros. And when she told him they had offered her a permanent position, he gladly started looking for one for himself. They were married a year after that. 

The glass door rattled and slid open, breaking him out of his thoughts. Sansa’s head poked outside. “There you are!”

Jon put out whatever remained of his cigarette against the rim of the flower pot. “I was just about to call and check if you were still coming,” he said, pulling himself up. 

His sister barely gave him any time to right himself before she tightened her arms around his neck. “Stupid flight got delayed because of the stupid snow,” she said in the crook of his neck. 

Sansa had just recently moved to the city for a master’s degree in politics. Because she felt homesick, she spent Christmas in Winterfell, even if it meant that she had to return before the New Year. Jon stayed behind, since most of Ygritte’s family travelled to KL to visit them. 

“C’mon, let’s get you some food so you can tell me all about mum and dad.” Jon pushed her back inside. 

“You won’t believe it, Bran has a girlfriend.”

“Good for him,” Jon laughed.

“He brought her home for dinner. You should have seen Arya, she was relentless in her teasing!”

For a while, his sister was a good distraction. That was until he saw Dany talking to Ygritte by the Christmas tree. He tried to pay attention to whatever Sansa was saying, but try as he might, he couldn’t tear his gaze from Dany. Theon materialised behind them, bombarding Sansa with questions about the rest of their family. 

He suddenly felt watched. From across the room, Daario was looking at him while nursing a non alcoholic cocktail. When their eyes met, Daario raised his glass in a polite toast. The hairs on his neck stood, but he still managed to raise his glass to his best friend’s husband. 

“Sorry, I have to go to the loo,” he said then left the suddenly too small room. 

Jon hid in the upstairs bathroom for a few minutes. He splashed cold water on his face until his eyes didn’t burn anymore. He hated that she wouldn't even look at him. If whatever almost happened between them was wrong then why was it killing him to pretend he didn’t care? Why was it physically hurting him when he searched for her eyes across the room and she defiantly looked away? 

He should have kissed her, vows and consequences be damned. 

A knock on the door forced him to come out of his hiding. Theon stumbled inside the loo, slightly swaying on his legs. 

Downstairs, the party had picked up in his brief absence. The music was louder and most of their guests were dancing now. He didn’t mean to look for her, but his eyes scanned the room all the same. 

He found her slowly swaying in her husband’s arms. Jon told himself it didn’t hurt to see her head lean against his shoulder, or to see his hands rest possessively on her lower back. 

He wished she was in his arms instead. But he’d done this. He’d killed whatever chance he had of ever tasting her lips or ever holding her like that again. So when Ygritte snaked her arms around his neck, he let himself be pulled to her body. 

Over his wife’s shoulder, his eyes finally locked with Dany’s. The hurt in them broke his heart all over again. 

❄❄❄❄❄

Even hours later, awkwardness dominated every single one of their interactions. At one point he’d started talking to Daario again. Dany joined them, but she made sure that all their discussions revolved around work. He thought he imagined her sigh of relief when Theon butted in to tell them all about his latest conquest, thus removing the spotlight from them. 

He was pulling out of the fridge the plates of pastries from the catering company when Daario slipped inside the kitchen, cursing at his phone. 

“Everything alright?” Jon asked.

Daario seemed to only just realise that he wasn’t alone. “I have to go. There’s been a big pile-up just outside KL.”

“Fucking hell.” As a trauma surgeon, this wasn’t the first time Daario had to leave a party because of an emergency. “You ok to drive?” 

Daario quickly typed a text and grabbed a glass of water from the counter. “Yeah, I only had a glass of champagne. It seems I can never get more than two days of peace.” His smile was full of regret. “Thanks for having us over. Had a blast, as always.” With that, he left Jon alone in the kitchen. 

When he took the plates out to the living room, he saw Dany with Daario by the front door. They were talking in a hushed tone, and Jon thought that she looked worried. He gave her a quick hug and a kiss and hastily pulled his coat on. With a last wave at Jon, Daario left. 

He was by the table that was covered in food, talking to Tormund (one of Ygritte’s friends) when Ygritte sneaked up behind him. 

“Darling, please, help me convince Dany she doesn’t have to leave just yet.” Sure, it was just after 11, but their parties usually lasted until at least 1 AM.

Jon turned around; Dany was looking down at her heels, studying a chafe by the toes. “It’s fine, Ygritte. I’m probably going to worry about him the entire time. So I might as well go home, let you all enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“You’ll drive yourself crazy with worry. Might as well hang out here a bit more,” his wife pleaded with his best friend. 

Ygritte poked his side, looking pointedly at him then at Dany—who was now fidgeting with her phone, still avoiding his gaze. 

It killed him that she still refused to look at him. “Honey, if Dany wants to go home we shouldn't push,” he decided to give her an out. 

His words made Dany snap her violet eyes up to him. Fleetingly, he wondered if she wanted him to convince her to stay. The look was immediately gone from her face.

Ygritte sighed. “Fine, but you should let Jon drive you home.”

“I can call an uber,” Dany added a bit too quickly.

“Nonsense, you’re our friend, it’s the least we can do. You’ve had a few drinks and I’m not comfortable with you leaving by yourself. It’s a long drive.”

“I—” Dany began.

“Jon,” his wife turned to him. “I didn’t see you drink much.” 

He shook his head, “Just the one glass of scotch.” Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised that this was probably the only chance he would get to explain himself. 

“It’s settled,” his wife smiled at Dany. “But let’s have dessert first. Please, I ordered these from Hot Pie’s!” 

Dany didn’t fight them on it. Ygritte clung to him until it was finally time to take Dany home. He was too nervous to eat anything before they left.

After she said her goodbyes, she quietly got into the car. 

She didn’t look at him, didn’t even acknowledge him the entire forty minute drive. The silence was killing him. In the privacy of his car, her apathy was somehow worse than it had been during the party. 

He’d take being stabbed with a rusty knife over her refusing to even look at him. How was he expected to just accept being cut off from her life like that—like she didn’t care about him? How did she expect them to work together if she treated him as if he didn’t even exist? Jon glanced at her again. Her gloveless hands were interlaced in her lap, her forehead resting against the cold window, eyes closed. 

Jon gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white underneath his gloves. This had to stop. He’d been agonising about what almost happened between them for the past four nights and four days—not that he was counting—regretting his decision, wishing he could go back and change it. He just might go insane if she continued treating him like this. 

He barely managed to put the car in park before Dany yanked the safety belt off her and jumped out of the car, making a beeline for the front door of her house. Jon immediately stopped the engine and ran after her. 

“Dany, wait!”

She heard him, just didn’t want anything to do with him—not anymore. Dany struggled with the keys, but eventually unlocked the door. It was just enough time for Jon to stop the door with his foot. 

“Please.” 

She stopped trying to push the door against his foot and moved away from him. “Just leave me alone, Jon.” Dany turned her back to him and proceeded to ignore him. 

Without thinking, he followed her inside, slamming the door behind him. This was ending now. 

He caught her wrist. “Just look at me, godsdammit.” He was relieved when she didn’t yank her hand away from his grasp, even if she still refused to look at him. “I’m sorry,” he started. 

She gave a bitter laugh. “Whatever are you apologising for, Jon?” 

Jon took a step closer to her, his thumb drawing circles over her inner wrist. “For what I said. For what I _didn’t_ do.”

“Why would you apologise for _that_?” She choked on the last word. 

Emboldened by the fact that this was the first time since the park that she was truly speaking to him, he walked around her, hanging onto her wrist like a lifeline—needing it so he could finally fix things—until he stood in front of her. Their stance immediately brought him back to that night.

Dany shook her head. “You’re a good man, Jon. But even _you_ can’t apologise for refusing to kiss a woman who is not your wife.” She finally looked at him then. The tears gathering in her eyes felt like punches to his gut. 

“I just can’t—” she swallowed hard, her violet eyes glistening in the string lights from her Christmas tree—the only source of light in the otherwise dark house. “We can try to go back. Forget everything. But I’m going to need some time away from you.” 

She looked away from him and took half a step back. “Seeing you tonight with _her_ , after you rejected me…might as well have stabbed me in the heart.” She laughed although she looked far from being amused. “She doesn’t even know just how loyal you are to her. Unlike me. I was the one begging someone else’s husband to kiss me.”

For a moment they stood in silence. He knew exactly what she felt. Hells, his mouth filled with bile every time he’d seen her husband touch her that night. It was torture, and he didn’t even have a right to feel hurt by it. But spending time away didn’t seem like a realistic option. Too many lines had been crossed; it was too late for them to go back. It wasn’t that he wanted an affair with just anyone. No one else would do _but_ her. All he wanted was Dany. 

He squeezed her wrist. She refused to look at him. 

“I know I said we can’t,” he eventually said, feeling confident for the first time that night.

Dany scoffed.

“What I meant to say then was that we _shouldn’t_. But know that I _wanted_ , and I _needed_.”

The tears in her eyes finally broke free from her lashes and started sliding down her cheeks. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Jon.”

“I want you, Dany. Do you still want me?” He finally dared to ask. 

She nodded, choking back a sob.

He let go of her wrist, bringing his hands up to cradle her lovely face. Her cold fingers wrapped around his wrists. Her eyes pleaded with him just like they had in the elevator and in the park.

“I was so stupid to let you go,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

This time there wasn’t any hesitation on his part. His head dipped to capture her lower lip between his. Her breath left her in a single woosh of relief, passing through his lips, settling somewhere deep in his soul. His dreams didn’t do her justice. Her lips moved against his with confidence, parting them to tangle her tongue with his. 

She was everywhere: her smell invaded his nostrils (lemons, embers and a flower he couldn't quite identify), her fingers reached up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer to her small body—as much as their multiple layers allowed. She tasted like champagne and the raspberry eclair she ate at his house. Their gentle moans mixed in the sweetest melody. 

Much too soon, he had to pull away for air. Jon thumbed away the last of the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“I wish I had enough courage to do that at the park.” He hugged her to his chest, planting kisses on the top of her head. “These days have been pure torture.”

“Understatement of the decade,” she sniffled. 

“I don’t even want to think what I would have done had I had to wait until Monday to see you again.” Jon squeezed her tighter. 

He could feel her fingers fisting the front of his coat. 

She pulled back with another sniffle. “You’re wearing the scarf.” 

He kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, not yet ready to let her go. “Of course. I barely even parted with it since you gave it to me.”

Dany gave him a teary smile as she dug in her coat’s pocket, pulling out the gloves he gifted her. 

He smiled. “Oh, Dany, what are we going to do?” 

He pulled her in for another kiss. This one was full of desperation, of regret for their situation, of wanting to make her his forever. She matched him in everything he gave. 

“I should leave.” He kissed her again. “Your neighbours...”

“Oh.” She seemed to realise that it was too late for a friendly visit. “I’ll miss you.”

Jon rested his forehead to hers. He inhaled her scent again. “Me too. Monday can’t come soon enough.”

With one last kiss, he left. 

❄❄❄❄❄

Monday morning found him a mess. He barely even got four hours of sleep. He tossed and turned most of the night before he retreated to the couch in the living room, where he’d stared at the ceiling most of the time, thinking about Dany. 

He left for work way too early, too skittish to stay for breakfast and deal with his wife. He took the train, not trusting himself to focus enough to safely navigate the slippery roads.

Jon was the first in line at Crow's Nest—the coffee shop just across the street from Selmy & Dayne. He was functioning on autopilot: he ordered two cups of Caramel Brulée Latte, paid for them, grabbed the drinks and took the elevator to his floor. 

Before he realised, he was standing in front of Dany’s door. 

Hells, he wasn’t even sure she was there. Most of the floor was deserted, which was to be expected on the last Monday of the year, at 7:40 AM. 

Suddenly he felt unsure of himself. They’d crossed the point of no return, but what if Dany had changed her mind since Saturday? Everything looked worse in the harsh light of the morning after. 

Mercifully, the door abruptly opened before he had an opportunity to fully spiral. 

Dany’s warm smile melted away all his doubts. 

“Hi,” she greeted him, pushing the door wide so he could step inside. 

She closed the door behind him and rested against it, hands behind her back, still holding onto the knob.

He felt like a greenboy, talking for a girl he liked for the first time. “I—I couldn't sleep.”

“Me neither.” Jon could see a rosy flush extending from her cheeks to the points of her ears. 

His heart started beating faster, warmth spreading throughout his body. The fact that he was still wearing his coat, scarf and gloves didn’t help with his blush. 

He cleared his throat, “I bought you coffee.”

Dany shook her head, a knowing smirk on her face. “We both know that thing barely qualifies as coffee.” Her light teasing replaced the anxiety in his veins with anticipation. This was still Dany, his best friend. The familiarity of their interactions sparked hope in his heart. 

Jon breathed out a chuckle. “You keep insulting my coffee choices, yet you drink it every single time.”

“Only because you keep buying it.” 

The way she bit her lower lip then was what broke his restraint. He immediately put the cups on her desk and in two strides he was pinning her against the door, swallowing her squeal of surprise, his lips moving against hers in a dance that they shouldn’t have known by heart in such a short time. 

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to her. His hands fanned over her lower ribs, feeling how her laboured breaths expanded and contracted them. He continued a path downwards, until he reached the curve of her perfect arse—the one he’d dreamed of grabbing and pinching every single time she sat on his desk to disagree with one of his briefs. 

He reluctantly pulled away to look at her. It was a mistake. He wasn’t ready for his breath to be stolen away from his lungs by her dishevelled look, her lips swollen from his attack, lipstick slightly smeared and eyes glossy. He groaned and kissed her again, this time a short one, but just as passionate. 

“Is this ok?” he drank in everything about her in that moment: the way her chest heaved, pushing her perfect breasts up, giving him a peek between the two undone buttons of her white dress shirt, fingers fisting his coat and scarf, her purple eyes studying him.

“I suppose,” she eventually said. “Although I should probably stop wearing this lipstick.” She reached up, her thumb wiping away what must have been traces of the lipstick that was no longer perfectly painted on her lips. 

He leaned into her touch. 

“Let’s get you out of these, then we can drink that gods awful drink you call coffee,” she pecked his lips again. A short, reassuring kiss. A nothing-has-to-change kiss; a this-is-still-us kiss.

With one last squeeze of her arse, he stepped away and shrugged out of his coat. They moved to the small sofa in front of the window and enjoyed their drinks. And although the door remained open during the entire time, he still felt like they shared a very intimate moment. 

❄❄❄❄❄

Before he knew it, the 31st of December was upon them. 

He rang in the New Year at the Dragonpit, with a few of his colleagues from the firm—Shireen, Theon, Margaery and Dany—their special others and friends among them. 

As for the past fifteen years, he kissed Ygritte at midnight. But this time his eyes scanned the crowd until he met Dany’s violet eyes from across the dance floor.

A promise. 

A silent invitation. 

So when he saw her make her way to the restrooms, he followed her. 

She pulled him past the double doors, crowding him in what looked like a storage room. She kissed him hard. He could still taste champagne on her tongue. She whispered that she wanted to be the one to kiss him at midnight. 

Her husband was waiting for her on the dance floor. His own wife was there too.

He kissed Dany again, a man parched. 

No one would miss them for a few more minutes 

❄❄❄❄❄

The first week of the new year passed by in a blur. He barely had any time to breathe. He saw Dany for lunch every single day, except for Tuesday, when he was stuck (yet again) in court. That night he had another fight with his wife, breaking their longest fight-free streak. 

Jon couldn’t bring himself to care. 

The mornings were _theirs_. It was a wordless pact, they both came in early now, making out like teenagers in her office before they got to their usual schedule. Her kisses were the only thing getting him through the busy days.

“Did you change your perfume?” he asked one morning. 

Dany righted her pencil skirt, then fixed his tie. “I’m not wearing any today.”

He remembered how her perfume had lingered on his gloves. With all the kissing, it was bound to transfer to his clothes one of these days. 

“I should probably do the same,” he offered. 

She gave him a small smile in gratitude. 

They never outright spoke about such things. So they skirted around the subject, unless it naturally came up. Like how she stopped wearing certain lipsticks that tended to smudge or transfer, and how he started coming in earlier and going home later than usual. And now, her perfume. 

He knew that what she said made sense. He also didn’t want to admit to her that he’d certainly miss it, because it always made him smile to discover that his hands smelled of her perfume at the end of the day. 

❄❄❄❄❄

Thursday’s lunch break was spent with Arthur and a new client. Even if Melisandre crept the hells out of him, he managed to push through the entire affair. However, the effort left him with a horrible headache. 

So when Arthur went back to the office, Jon stopped by the first pharmacy. He grabbed a box of the strongest ibuprofen and made his way to the register. His eyes settled on the rack closest to the cashier. 

The small colourful boxes taunted him. 

They hadn’t had the opportunity to even speak about sex yet. Sure, their kisses sometimes turned into some heavy grinding. But due to their limited time together, they could barely steal away a few minutes here and there—definitely not enough for everything he wanted to do to her. 

Of course he’d dreamed—more than once—about tasting her and making her come around him. 

Plus, it somehow seemed like an important step, one they had to at least discuss beforehand. 

But before he could change his mind, he grabbed a pack of condoms and paid in cash. Better they were prepared—just in case.

❄❄❄❄❄

Friday morning had passed in a blur of morning coffee without Dany (she had to visit a client on the other side of KL), meetings and last minute tweaks to the Tollett deposition. He barely found time to eat a sandwich before he was pulled in a conference call. 

Dany came by around three o’clock to continue working on the Tarly case. For a while, they focused on that, finally finishing going through the last of the documents. Afterwards, they catalogued the pieces of evidence, while Dany made an inventory of the relevant ones. 

Shireen popped in just before she left home, to say she took the liberty of ordering them food from their favorite Tyroshi place. They had a tendency to forget about everything else when they worked together—a habit everyone at Selmy & Dayne seemed to be aware of. 

By the time dinner arrived, they were the only ones left on their floor.

As per usual, Dany had taken off her high heeled ankle boots and made herself comfortable on his couch. Her long silver hair was pulled up in a messy bun—she’d managed to do so before he could snatch her hair band and use it for that same purpose. 

He was feeding her bite sized pieces of spicy chicken as she added (even more!) comments to their response to the claim. He loved it when she was this focused. Something about her mind had always fascinated him. By now, he knew better than to interrupt her. 

“I’m thinking we can probably go a bit harder on the abusive father angle here—” she pointed to a paragraph in their document “—so Samwell can be spared this part. Then, by the time he has to come in, we can keep our questions to a minimum.” 

“I think that’s the best we can do, yes.” He remembered just how upset Samwell had been after their last meeting.

Jon took the empty carton recipients and threw them in the trash.

“Then we can take his mum’s testimony.” 

He hummed in agreement as he fetched them two glasses of water.

“I really want to keep it short with her, Jon. The woman has suffered enough.” 

“I know,” he said, coming back to sit on the couch with her. 

He offered her one glass. Dany was chewing on her upper lip. 

“Hey,” Jon inched closer. “We’re gonna be fine. We don’t have to file this until Tuesday, then we’ll see when the first hearing is set. We have enough time to finesse our defence until then.”

Dany drank the entire glass of water then turned to him. “I have faith in us, but I still can’t help it. Sometimes I just can’t seem to see past the worst case scenarios.”

Jon moved the computer from her lap to the small coffee table. 

“Yes, and then everything works out because you’re brilliant.”

She scoffed at him.

“C’mon, we’ve worked enough today. Let’s take your mind off this for a while. What do you say we go downstairs and grab a gin and tonic?” 

Dany turned her body to face him fully. 

There it was again, that look in her eyes, the one that never failed to disarm him. Dany slowly leaned forward, eyes still trained on him. His pulse started picking up when her hand touched his thigh. 

It only took her whispering his name once for him to crush his lips against hers. Before he knew it, her body was pinned under his on the couch. 

He tasted every bit of exposed skin his lips could find: her neck, her clavicles, the skin between her breasts. He looked at her, his fingers already around one of the buttons of her shirt, his eyes asking a silent question. 

She breathed out a ‘yes’. 

Jon had to stifle a moan, his cock already hard, throbbing against the confines of his trousers. He undid all the small buttons of her dress shirt and pushed the silky material down, exposing the milky skin of her abdomen and the lacy white bra covering her breasts. Too impatient to properly undress her, he pushed one of the cups down to expose her rosy nipple. He latched onto it, suckling gently until it stiffened. Her moans were the only sound in the room. He repeated the motions on her other breast. 

His mouth left a trail of wet kisses from her nipple to her belly button. He didn’t want to, but he stopped. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling his face to her level. 

He swallowed. “We haven’t talked about this yet.”

Dany studied him for a moment, her big eyes boring into his. He felt exposed, even if he was still wearing most of his clothes. Her fingers gently raked a path from his beard, up into his hair and down again. The movement relaxed him. He shifted over her so he didn’t crush her under his body. 

“Do _you_ want this?”

“I want you, Dany, _all_ of you,” he replied. “I just didn’t want to assume…”

She smiled at him, one of her carefree, full of love smiles he could no longer live without. 

“I—I bought condoms,” he managed to say, even though he could feel his face starting to get hot under her hands.

“Did you now,” she bit her lip.

He felt like a greenboy again. Why was he blushing so fucking much? Jon pressed his forehead to her sternum. “I probably should have asked first.”

“Jon,” she pulled on his chin so he’d look back at her. “Wanna hear something funny?” 

He nodded.

“I bought a box as well. It’s hidden in my work bag.”

“Did you now?” he planted a kiss on the top of her breast. 

“Yes,” she moaned, arching her back into him.

He continued his previous path down her body, licking her exposed skin. “What shall we do about that?”

When he got to the waistband of her pencil skirt, she pulled on his hair again. Jon looked up while licking the skin under her bellybutton.

With a smirk, she said, “You better get to work, Jon Snow.”

Dany lifted her hips, allowing him to find the hidden zipper at the back of her skirt. He slowly pulled it down, revealing her fleshy thighs. 

“No marks,” she moaned when his teeth sunk into her hip. 

His tongue soothed the sensitive flesh. 

Of course, he had to restrain himself. Jon wasn’t meant to see, let alone taste these parts of her. So he’d make sure to leave no trace behind. 

He slowly rolled down the skirt and the tights she was wearing underneath, until she was left in her lace panties. He wanted to bury his face between her legs, taste her and never come back up for air. 

She pulled on his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, then hastily unbuttoning it. Dany came up to lick his chest, her tongue swirling on his pecks, coming up to his neck where she left open mouthed kisses. 

“I want you,” she whispered against his mouth.

He kissed her back. He wanted her so fucking much. She leaned back to reach for her handbag. Her fingers searched inside for the condom. As soon as she found it, she pulled him back against her body. 

She passed him the condom then kissed him with more fervor than before. Without breaking their kiss, she undid his belt, then the zipper, her hand slipping inside his boxer briefs, wrapping around his cock, stroking him while pushing her tongue in his mouth. He went back on his haunches so she could pull the clothes down over his arse, and free him of the tight confines of his clothes. 

He let her give his cock a few pumps as he tore the wrapper of the condom, then rolled it down his stiff shaft. 

He felt compelled to ask for her consent one last time. “Are you sure?” 

“Jon, I want you,” she replied. 

It was all he needed to line his cock to her dripping cunt and slowly push inside. In spite of her newly instated ‘no marks’ rule, she still sunk her nails in his forearms as she took him inside her wet heat. She shuddered and stopped him halfway—needing a moment to adjust to him. 

“Ok?” he asked, as her thighs shivered and twisted around his lower back, pulling him further inside her.

“Gods, yes,” she moaned. “More.”

He went slow, even after he bottomed out, his eyes trained on hers with each stroke of his cock inside her. He wanted to prolong the moment as much as he could. If they were allowed, he’d make love to her the entire night, push all her buttons, discover in one night what made her moan and cry out his name, then what exactly pushed her over the edge. 

There would be more times to explore, he decided then. He’d make sure of it.

Jon hooked her left knee over his arm and pushed it towards her chest, opening her up even more. 

“Fuck,” she keened, pullin his face to hers, plunging her tongue inside his mouth, then nipping on his lips.

He could already feel his balls tighten, so he slithered his hand between their bodies until he found her clit. He rubbed it with his thumb, mirroring the rhythm his hips set. She came with his name on her lips while staring into his eyes. 

His soul might have left his body just then. 

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. He closed his eyes and he dived to capture her lips again as he emptied himself in the condom. 

All he wanted in that moment was to remain in her arms for the rest of the night. 

❄❄❄❄❄

As the weeks progressed, his days were divided into time with and without Dany. 

The nights were the worst. If there was anything he could ask the old gods for, it would be to be able to wake up with her in his arms. 

Instead, he had to remain each night lying next to his wife, while she shared her bed with her husband.

He was determined to commit to his memory each moment he could steal away with Dany: each kiss, every secret touch, every single word they exchanged, and every moan she made when he was buried deep inside her. 

When Ygritte suggested they celebrate his birthday at the Dragonpit, he agreed, even if it meant a big celebration. He wasn’t one for crowds, nor did he necessarily want all those people around him that day. But the pub offered too many opportunities to be with Dany. 

When the birthday boy asked for a dance with her, no one batted an eye—at least that’s what he thought, until he saw that Daario was intently watching them as they swayed on the dancefloor. Jon tried to keep a natural posture, but still one which allowed him to hold her as close as possible.

Daario’s attentive gaze didn’t let him fully enjoy his time with Dany.

“What’s wrong?” Dany asked as her hands came to rest on his chest. 

“He’s watching us,” Jon gritted through his teeth. 

He immediately felt her tense in his embrace. After a few beats, she took the lead and spun around, changing positions so that his back was to Daario. 

“Eyes on me, Jon. I’m here,” she said, one palm resting on the back of his neck, while the other intertwined with his proffered one. 

It worked; for the rest of the song all he saw was Dany. 

Jon stepped out after they served the cake, needing a moment to himself, or maybe just to not watch Dany dancing with her husband. 

He was hiding in the back alley, hoping the cigarette would provide at least part of the comfort he truly needed. He was playing with the pack, tossing it in the air and catching it, again and again. He’d changed brands months ago, just because Dany didn’t like the ones he smoked before. The hold she had on his life, even months before anything happened between them, was not lost on him. 

The door of the pub screeched. He turned around to see her, shivering in her little black dress. Instinctively, he offered his hand to her. When she took it, he immediately pulled her into his arms, wrapping the lapels of his coat around her, as he kept her back to his chest, shielding her from the biting February wind. 

When she reached for his cigarette, he promptly gave it over. She finished whatever remained of it and put it out against the sole of her black pump. 

“He had to leave. There was an emergency.” Dany shivered against him. 

His arms squeezed around her waist. 

She nuzzled against his neck. “I should be alone until dawn.”

“Dany,” he breathed into her hair, planting small kisses under her left ear. 

She turned in his embrace, facing him. “Perhaps you can get away tonight.” 

With that promise, she planted a quick peck on his kiss and went back inside. 

Jon gave himself a few minutes to calm down, to steady the erratic beat of his heart. His hands shook in anticipation, even if it was a long chance. After a few more calming breaths, he followed after her inside the Dragonpit. 

By some miracle, the stars aligned for them.

Since they decided to celebrate his birthday that Friday, immediately after work (his actual birthday was the day after), Ygritte had arrived at the Dragonpit in her own car. So when it was time to leave, she offered to drop off a few of their friends. For his part, Jon promised to drop off Shireen, Myrcella, Sansa and Dany. 

Shireen and Sansa lived closest to the office. As soon as they left Myrcella’s street, he pulled Dany’s hand to his lips. Their interlaced fingers rested on the shifter for the remainder of their ride. Halfway to her house, they decided it was probably too risky to go there. 

Jon knew then just the place to take her. He parked in the empty parking lot that he’d used as a refuge more than once. 

Dany pounced on him as soon as he killed the engine. She took off her coat and threw it over the seat she had just vacated. Her kisses were rough and hungry, there was no time to take things slow. 

She pulled on the piece of material around her middle, the bow that kept her wraparound dress secure coming undone, exposing the black lingerie she’d worn underneath the entire day. 

He groaned at the view. That morning she’d whispered just before their weekly meeting how she’d worn that dress especially for him.

Jon immediately pulled down the cups of her bra to attack her tits. Her fingers expertly undid his belt and fly, taking his already hard cock out. 

“Fuck,” she moaned as he gently bit on her nipple. 

He pulled on the sides of her dress to reveal more of her skin to him. Jon groaned in frustration as he realised she wore tights. 

“Just rip them,” Dany commanded as she pumped his dick, spreading the precome that was already leaking from the tip. 

Without needing further encouragement, he fisted the nylon between his hands and pulled hard until it gave out. A rip formed just at her crotch. 

He kept her steady as she bent over to get her bag from the passenger’s seat. She ripped the wrapper of the condom she pulled from one of the hidden pockets and wasted no time in rolling it over his shaft. 

She braced herself on his shoulders then pulled her panties to the side so she could sink onto him. 

As always, Dany rode him hard and fast.

Alone and outside of the office for once, they could be as vocal as they wanted, without the fear of being accidentally overheard. So he took the opportunity to tell her how beautiful she was when she came around his cock, how tight she was, how no one ever could even compare to her, how her cunt tasted the sweetest. 

She was getting tired, he could feel it in the way her hips lost their rhythm. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he grunted in between thrusts. Her right hand went to her clit, rubbing it fast, her eyes not leaving his as she chased her own pleasure. She always liked to look in his eyes as she came.

He could feel her getting close. “That’s it, love.” His fingers pressed harder against her hip bones as he dragged her up and down his cock. “Come for me, let me hear you,” he grunted. 

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she gasped out his name again and again, like a prayer. He came soon after her. 

Afterwards, he wrapped her in his arms, stroking her back as his member softened inside her. 

“Happy birthday, Jon,” she whispered against his neck.

It was the best birthday he’d had in years. 

❄❄❄❄❄

Jon groaned as he felt the telltale tightening in his balls. 

“I’m going to come,” he warned. She didn’t move away.

He leaned all the way back on the bed. 

It was all wrong. 

He pushed the pads of his hands hard against his eyelids. He didn’t want to see the fiery red hair of his wife bobbing up and down as she was sucking him off. He pushed against his eyeballs until he saw white. 

He came inside her mouth. He could feel her warm tongue cleaning him. Her moans filled their bedroom. Afterwards, he finished Ygritte off with his fingers then he went for a run. 

Somewhere along the lines, he’d started feeling more guilty while having sex with his wife than when he did when he was with Dany. 

❄❄❄❄❄

It was the end of March when they had their first official hearing for the Tarly case. 

They went back to Selmy & Dayne and stayed until they were the only ones on the floor. It was definitely becoming a habit—one that his wife had already made plenty known she was unhappy about.

Jon had discussed with Arthur about other cases he could share with Dany so they’d have more excuses to work closely together. 

There were a few from which they could pick. Jon had barely finished telling Dany about it, when she started kissing him.

Next thing he knew, he’d pushed her onto his desk and was devouring her neck. He’d learned that she was extremely sensitive behind her ears, closest to her hairline. It always elicited the most delicious moans out of her pretty mouth. 

He managed to unbutton her shirt without interrupting his attack on her neck. With her chest fully exposed to him, he moved downwards, licking a path between her breasts. He snaked a hand behind her to undo the clasp of her bra. Her moans filled his office. The anticipation alone of tasting her made him drunk. 

Dany lay sprawled on his desk, her back arching with each passing of his hungry mouth over her exposed flesh. Suddenly his eyes caught on a red spot on the underside of her left breast.

He froze. His thumb traced the angry red mark. Dany seemed to finally realise why he stopped kissing her. She flinched away from his touch, pulling herself up to a sitting position. 

“Jon, I'm s—”

“Don't.” He immediately cut her off. Guilt washed over him like he’d been doused in ice water. If she was going to apologise he might just double over and vomit.

Here they were, half naked, hiding away in his office, and she was _apologising_ to her lover for the lovebite her fucking _husband_ left on her perfect skin.

The angry mark might as well have sucked the air out of the entire room. It stared him down, making its meaning well known: _mine_. 

_He_ was the intruder. _He_ was the unwelcomed one. _He_ was the one taking something that wasn't his to take in the first place.

She pushed him away, pulling up her shirt, shielding herself from him.

“Dany,” he said, her name a desperate prayer tumbling from his lips.

“Who are we kidding, Jon?”

Her tone made him forget all about the guilt. 

“You misunderstood me.” This time, when he touched her, she didn't shove him away. He dipped his head, urging her to look at him.

“Fuck.” He sighed. “Not like I expect you to stop— _being_ with him.” Jon forced the words out of his mouth. He didn't want to think about that.

Her face twisted into a pained grimace. “I wish he hadn't done that. I didn’t realise what he was doing at the time.”

Jon shook his head at her. His palms cradled her face, “I'm not an idiot. I know I have no right to—”

Dany cut him off with a kiss. It was nothing like the hurried ones before. These kisses were slow, apologetic, and they conveyed all the feelings they dared not say out loud. 

He pulled her to his chest, smoothing her moonbeam hair down her back. It was more to soothe himself than her.

When he tried to button up her shirt, Dany’s hand stopped him. She brought his hand to cup her left breast. 

“We don't have to,” he said.

“I _want_ to,” she replied, shrugging out of her shirt so it dropped to the desk, pooling around her waist. “Unless—” 

Jon didn't let her finish. He would always want her, whatever of her she'd give him.

They went slow, taking all the time they couldn’t afford to take. There would probably be consequences to these stolen extra minutes. But in that moment he couldn't bring himself to care. He tasted every inch of her skin he could find, savouring her taste, getting lost in her moans. 

When she took his body into hers, it felt like coming home. He fucked her slowly, watching himself get buried into her wet cunt. The love bite still stared at him, an angry red, taunting him. But she was here, moaning _his_ name, and she _was_ his, in ways that she’d never be to her husband again. 

On an impulse, Jon bent down and sucked on that very spot. When his teeth nipped at the tender skin, Dany buried her fingers in his hair, keeping him there. His thumb found her clit and rubbed at it, his tongue soothing over the cursed spot. He came immediately after her, spilling into the condom. 

Now she'd bear his mark too.

❄❄❄❄❄

His lungs burned, but he couldn’t stop. 

So he ran even when his muscles protested against it, he ran until he found himself so far away from home, he’d no longer feel like he was suffocating.

Eventually he reached a park. He collapsed on the grass, at the trunk of a heart tree. 

The fight replayed in his mind, on a loop: he was working too late, he didn’t care, he barely even looked at her, he didn’t love her anymore. 

Weirdly enough, there were no accusations of infidelity this time. 

He knew he couldn’t go on like this for long. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

_‘Did you ever get around to finishing that brief?’_ The message from Dany read. 

Of course, there was no brief. She wanted to know if he could call her. 

When his breathing returned to normal, he dialed her number. Good thing that he was already closer to her house than his. 

❄❄❄❄❄

Something felt wrong as soon as he got out of the car.

The peculiar feeling only grew stronger as he turned the key in the lock and stepped inside his house. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up with every step he took. It was quiet—so quiet that the sound of his heartbeat seemed to echo throughout the entire house.

A reading lamp was on in the sitting room. Ygritte was curled up on the wingback chair next to the lamp, a piece of paper in her lap. 

Her eyes snapped up to him. It was obvious she’d been crying. A lot. 

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “We need to talk,” she croaked. 

Jon swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

But he still took a seat on the couch in front of her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew!!! Two down, one to go. 
> 
> That didn't hurt so bad, right? 
> 
> Before you get used to me posting this much, let me tell you that part 3 will take a while though as I have a few things I want to finish before I tackle that monster (especially a certain fake dating AU hehe). Part 2 sort of got out of my hands. I just had so much stuff to get over it. Boy am I glad I didn't post this as a one shot !
> 
> So? Are you still living? Do you need water? CPR?

**Author's Note:**

> I had to split this up in 3 parts, you'll see why! Part 2 will be posted in a few days. 
> 
> Happy Holidays!


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